


But My Heart Is Breaking

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: ? - Freeform, But over a fictional issue, Crowley bottles some things up and then stops doing that, I had 'The Show Must Go On' stuck in my head the whole time I was writing this, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Lack of Communication, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Microaggressions, Miscommunication, Multi, Other, conflicted feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Let's get this part out of the way, Crowley loves Aziraphale. With all of himself. Completely fucking gone on the bastard, head over heels besotted.Here's the other thing, though. Aziraphale is an asshole. And not just in the fun way, hedonistic and lovely and irate. In the truly awful way, where, while Crowley knows on some level the angel has always known he's a person -- has seen and listened to him more truly than anyone, he's also responsible for 6000 years of Crowley having to reinforce his own personhood in order not to be categorized with the rest of his kind in the angel's head.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 159





	But My Heart Is Breaking

Let's get this part out of the way, Crowley loves Aziraphale. With all of himself. Completely fucking gone on the bastard, head over heels besotted. Aziraphale is his most important person, best friend, just generally favorite to hang out with. Any small whim, favor. If it's rewarded with a smile, Crowley is probably going to do for him with nothing more than a half hearted grumble.

Here's the other thing, though. Aziraphale is an asshole. And not just in the fun way, hedonistic and lovely and irate. In the truly awful way, where, while Crowley knows on some level the angel has always known he's a person -- has seen and listened to him more truly than anyone, he's also responsible for 6000 years of Crowley having to reinforce his own personhood in order not to be categorized with the rest of his kind in the angel's head.

And that hurts. Crowley is a demon, Crowley will always be a demon, hell or no, and harbors absolutely no regrets in that regard given his limited number of options.

And he knows it's not all Aziraphale's fault! Crowley can justify Aziraphale’s rejections all day. The fact that it's a self defense mechanism, necessary considering the cold calculating unmoved disgust of the people who were supposed to be on Aziraphale’s side. People who expected him to step into his own destruction with a simple order. Crowley has dreams about strangling Gabriel, about beating at the walls of heaven asking why they would make their best angel fold himself up so small.

But it's this history of the bitter taste on Crowley's tongue, that make one particular change in Aziraphale's interactions after Armageddon't so hard to swallow.

Because Aziraphale stops blatantly calling Crowley a demon or a foul fiend, things that felt like a joke, that he could roll his eyes at.1 And Aziraphale starts being sympathetic about it.

It's hard to identify the feeling at first. The uncomfortable clench when they're walking in the park and Aziraphale says something like, "Oh my dear, why don't you take your glasses off! I know you're sensitive about your eyes but they really are quite nice." Or when Aziraphale starts fretting about a bird he saw fall from a nest once and then freezes and changes the subject.

It's so much stubler than straight up insults or accusations, but it's in a thousand little things, little looks, little words. And Crowley doesn't know how to respond to it, doesn't know how to quantify his discomfort or express it when he knows Aziraphale holds no ill intent.

So he mostly responds to it in monosyllables 'Mmm' and 'Hmm' are standard go-tos. The problem with this, because of the wonders of a lack of communication, is that Aziraphale thinks he's embarrassed. Or ashamed maybe. So he doubles down, goes more obvious, more supportive.

And because Crowley never really planned to address it, figured the old 'ignore it till it goes away' trick would probably work, he never really thought through a way to sit Aziraphale down and talk through his discomfort in a calm, rational way.

So, when the camel's back breaks, it shouldn't be a surprise that it explodes in a shower of bone and gristle.

"And really, you can just magic the humans to not notice your eyes! I don't know why you insist on covering them up."

"Mmm."

"And have you been wearing actual shoes lately? You know I don't mind when you have some scales out dear!"

"Hmm." The paper Starbucks cup he's been sipping from as he watches Aziraphale putter around the bookshop crumples in his hand.

Welp.

"And I really do think -"

Crowley grits his teeth, tries to calm his racing heart2. He doesn't want to be mad at Aziraphale, Aziraphale is trying to be helpful even if it's about a problem that doesn't exist. But - "Stop."

Aziraphale turns to him frowning, "Dear I know you don't like -"

Crowley raises a hand, "Nn, no, like, actually stop for a minute." When Aziraphale closes his mouth Crowley goes on. "Here's the thing. Angel. The thing is -" he gestures somewhat helplessly at the room, "I like my glasses. Sure, I started wearing them because some witches could get tetchy if they got around the whole not noticing my eyes, thing. But, I like them! I wear them because they look cool and fit my image as a somewhat suave individual."

Aziraphale snorts a bit at that, and Crowley raises his hand again. "A-And! I wear actual shoes sometimes because it's bloody cold! I still glue coins to the sidewalk, and mess with people's phone lines, because I like to!"

Crowley takes a deep breath, then two, as what he is truly angry about rises up and constricts his throat. "Angel. I have never been ashamed of being a demon, that's always been you."

He doesn't wait for the reaction on the other's face, closes his eyes against it because if he sees Aziraphale upset he knows he'll back down. "Orders from hell sucked. Orders from heaven sucked too." He takes another breath, "but the only one who ever made me feel ashamed of being a demon, who made me feel like I was something other and not just someone who happens to be a demon making the best of things. Was you."

He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, away from Aziraphale. "I definitely value your opinion more than any humans trying to throw me in a river to see if I’ll float.” He huffs air out of his nose, eyes stinging and bracing himself for the next part. “Aziraphale, you're my best friend. I love you so much, I feel like it's going to discorporate me. But sometimes you are real honest to god-nngg-gosh shit to me."

He can’t be here right now. A glance at Aziraphale through eyes that are quickly going blurry reveals the angel to be pale and frozen, mouth open like he was going to say something and then forgot it. 

Crowley pushes to the door, stops. Turns back a fraction. "I'm going to be back. I just." A crumpled almost laugh tears itself from his gut, "Yeah." And he's gone.

***

Crowley is maybe a block away from the bookshop3, when the burn of anger in his chest extinguishes itself.

He can still feel tears on his face, not really crying anymore just slowly leaking at this point. He can still feel the swirling humanish vomity feeling in his stomach. But it's suddenly all . . . further away, numb.

He keeps moving, realizes he forgot his jacket and shoves his fingers as far into his tiny pockets as they’ll go. He tries to go over what just happened in his head and quickly decides that, no actually, feeling numb and not thinking about it is better.

He walks, and he doesn't think. Focuses on the cold bite of the wind.

He's not sure how long it is before he reaches the street with the bakery. Half an hour maybe? It's not the closest bakery to the bookshop, when Aziraphale stops by this one it's normally for their custard. Crowley stares at it for a minute before attempting the difficult task of wiping his face on a silk sleeve.4

Entering the bakery is somewhat of an adjustment, warm and much brighter than he would have expected. Which. Ah. He left his glasses on Aziraphale's checkout counter.

There's no one in line so he stares awkwardly at the menu5 for a minute before shuffling up to the counter.

The lady at the till older lady, maybe late fifties early sixties, and she’s quite clearly concerned but she doesn't ask Crowley about his red rimmed eyes or runny nose. It takes Crowley a moment to realize that she’s asked for his order, he feels his face heating as he scrambles for a response. "Gah. Uh. Coffee! A coffee, big?" Very eloquent. 

She smiles at him, still with a pinch of worry between her eyebrows, "Anything else, dear?"

He can feel his face crumple just a bit at the 'dear' and a wave of embarrassment washes over him. "Y-yeah, uh." His hopeless stare is redirected to the little cup of custard in the display case. "A, two, wait nn - five? Five angel delight custards. Please."

On the walk back to the bookshop Crowley tries to sort through his feelings about his sort of meltdown. He doesn't . . . regret it, exactly. He regrets digging up old regrets, how Aziraphale tried to rationalize their friendship when their friendship was a dangerous thing. How Aziraphale handled him being a demon has never felt great but it's still understandable, and it’s in the past. 

But if he's planned this, decided he was going to communicate his feelings or whatever. He definitely should have focused on the now. Not the 'Hey it sucks that you're treating me like I'm ashamed about being a demon because you've been treating that fact as an embarrassment for as long as I've known you' and more 'Hey I'm a demon and I'm ok with being a demon and it kinda weirds me out when you act like it's something I'm insecure about.'

He's a few blocks from the bookshop when Crowley starts freaking out6. What is he going to say? What is Aziraphale going to say? If Aziraphale is upset or apologetic Crowley is going to feel bad77, but if Aziraphale is mad. Well, if he's mad then Crowley has the sinking suspicion that Crowley's going to have to fuck off for a few decades. Centuries, maybe. He's eyes start burning again at the possibility. Because, he loves this. Loves what he and Aziraphale have started to build, loves showing up to the bookshop and helping him scare off customers, loves walking with him in the park discussing stupid things, arguing over stupid things. Watching his face light up over food, books, Crowley.

But Crowley can't, he can't compromise over this anymore. Not when it’s just them, no Heaven or Hell at their backs. He can't pretend it's ok that Aziraphale still thinks of what he is as less, if he's not willing to change after all the years of evidence stacked up against him.

Maybe this was why Crowley didn’t bring it up, because it's one thing if it's a well intended mistake. It's another if Crowley tells him how it makes him feel and Aziraphale doesn't listen.

Crowley walks right past the bookshop, fingers so tight on the bakery bag that the joints are white. He stops at the end of the block, turns around and tries again.

The sign is turned to closed but Crowley doesn't even have to miracle the door unlocked to get in. 

Aziraphale isn't where Crowley left him but he can feel the Angel's presence in the back.

Stomping determinedly towards the feeling of Aziraphale reveals the angel sitting on his couch. He flinches when Crowley comes in, staring at him with wide eyes surrounded by the kind of pink blotchiness that tends to come with a good cry.

Determination wins the competition with the awkward guilt in Crowley's stomach. After a frozen moment of locking eyes with Aziraphale he squares his shoulders, hands him the bag of custards, sits on the other side of the couch, and swings his legs onto the angel's lap. "Hi."

Aziraphale doesn't respond, managing to go even paler as he stares at the bakery bag in his hands. Crowley doesn't know what to say to that so he doesn't say anything, awkwardly waiting for Aziraphale to come back to the land of the living.

It takes Aziraphale a few tries, still staring at the bag as he opens and closes his mouth, "I feel. I feel like an apology may not actually be sufficient in this particular situation."

Crowley opens his mouth to say…. something. Maybe 'It's a start' or 'I'll take it?' But Aziraphale continues so he snaps his mouth closed again.

"I rather did not expect you to be back so soon. Expected you to be, off for a few months maybe." Aziraphale's fingers tighten on the bag as he huffs a broken little chuckle, "Then again, maybe that is just how I handle things. And you have been making compromises for this relationship that are in my favor for quite some time."

Crowley shifts uncomfortably, and tries to keep his voice light and joking as he responds. "Well, at least you're calling it a relationship and not an arrangement - that's plenty points to my favor, angel."

If he'd been hoping to lighten the mood than that that was not the direction to go. Aziraphale slaps a hand to his own mouth as his face crumples.

Crowley can feel his own back go ramrod straight, he squeaks, hands flying up and fluttering next to Aziraphale's shoulder trying to think of something to say that will mean that this will stop.

Aziraphale doesn't acknowledge Crowley's fluttering. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose before lowering the hand, turning, and attempting to look Crowley in the eyes. "I don't. You know, I don't think I understand what a demon really is, actually."

Crowley blinks at him, confused by this turn in the conversation, "Wot?"

Aziraphale winces, "I mean I've had two sources of information on the matter. Heaven's redirect. And you." Aziraphale huffs, "I rather wish now, that if I was to come to a monolithic conclusion about demons that I would have thought they were all dashing anti-hero types. It would have made a bit more sense, considering."

Crowley blinks, feeling blood rush to his face.

"So I would like you, if it is not too much of an imposition, to tell me what it means to you. And what - " Aziraphale's voice shudders off for a second but he pushes on, "And what you would like from me, going forward."

Crowley blinks again, using both sets of eyelids this time, and leans back. "What it means? Like, being a demon?"

Aziraphale nods, face resolute.

Crowley takes a minute to think it over. It's not something he's ever really had to explain before, something he’s thought about yes, but. "Well it's, ah, hmm…" he tries to think of a collected and narratively interpretable way to say this, and quickly dismisses the idea in favor of letting words fall out of his mouth like half chewed food.

"Well it's, on the one hand, it’s bullshit." He flaps a hand in the air uselessly, "Like the idea of, after the decisions that led to the fall, both groups being separated uniform factions devoid of individual free will. Bullshit.” He grunts, frustrated. “The idea of what our purpose is as far as fucking with earth and humans goes, getting more souls for our side, thinking that the amount of humans the few demons who actually have assignments on earth will make any difference. Honestly that's satanic propaganda. And angelic propaganda, whatever. The thing with humans having a bit more free will than us is mostly due to the diversity of systems they end up trapped in. It doesn't mean that we’re genuinely incapable of free will, obviously.” As much as some demons might use that as an excuse for the bloody ways in which enact their orders. “Both the idea of what angels and demons are has to do with the systems, the pressures and expectations placed on the individuals. Not the individuals themselves."

He raises a finger "That being said! That doesn't mean that on a personal level it doesn't matter! You being an angel is an inherent part of who you are and what you identify with even if the definition of what that's supposed to be is mucked up by the system you were trapped in. And the same goes for me being a demon. We've both been told to do horrifying things based on the priorities of those in positions of power within both systems." He hums seesawing a hand back and forth in the air "And I do think, have thought for a long time that giving humans both . . . options? I guess? Good vs. evil and all, is important for the whole human side of free will thing. Though, honestly I'm not sure how good a job of that we ever did, they kinda do that pretty well on their own?" Crowley huffs "And I've mostly resigned myself to being a neutrally irritating chaotic force, apocalypse on out. Apocalypse? Apoca-didn't? Wasn't?"

"Anyway, the point, the point is!" He points at Aziraphale's chest to demonstrate, "That while there may not be any difference on an individual 'personhood' level between angels and demons, it's still a personally important term for most individuals involved in the oppressive systems of government we originate from."

Thoughts mostly concluded, and convinced that if he doesn't cut himself off now he's going to start ranting about how humans are often cornered into similar actions and mindsets based on greater systems of power. Or about that time he tried to convince a group of lesser demons to unionize and got laughed out of the office. Crowley snaps his mouth shut and lowers his hand. "So, uh, yeah. Sorry that was kinda incomprehensible"

He realizes that Aziraphale is staring at him, mouth open and cheeks flushed red. They stare at each other for a moment, the heat in Crowley’s face returning with a vengeance.

It's Aziraphale who speaks first. "You know, if I do ever dig my head out of my arse enough for you to consider the option, I would quite like to be married to you someday."

Crowley chokes on air, has to turn to the side to splutter and wheeze for a minute as Aziraphale pats him on the back before he can give any sort of response to that. It's Aziraphale who speaks next anyway, "Sorry! Sorry! Timing! Quite bad timing on my part, dear, my apologies!"

"No!" Crowley squeaks, "No, I mean yeah a bit odd timing wise, but yeah let's do that. Excellent."

"Well! Yes! Absolutely spiffy!" It's Aziraphale's turn to squeak. "Now if we have that decided, would you like to continue educating me on my deeply ingrained speciesism?"

"I! Uh!" Crowley's ears are ringing, "N-not uh, overly much?” Is speciesism even a word? 

“How bout we just say you're going to work on it and we're gonna try and communicate better and leave it at that?"

Aziraphale nods studiously. "Did you have plans to return home tonight? Or would you consider getting quite thoroughly soused with me?"

Crowley groans in relief "Oh angel, I thought you'd never ask."

* 1\. Unless they were being used as an accusation, as the reason why Crowley could be responsible for the horrors of humans. [ ▲ ]

* 2\. Which has suddenly decided that it is a very real organ in his body thank you very much [ ▲ ]

* 3\. The Bentley, having been left in front of the bookshelf, starts queuing 'The Invisible Man' to repeat at least ten times the next time Crowley decides to grace it with his presence. Awful rude of him to walk somewhere after all. [ ▲ ]

* 4\. Now if Crowley himself had believed that that would work out then it might have, unfortunately for him late nights spent reading through IKEA bed sheet reviews meant that the attempt mostly just smeared the tears around. [ ▲ ]

* 5\. Is it still a menu when it's up in big letters on the wall? Menus are like, the little folding things you get at restaurants, do these have a different name? [ ▲ ]

* 6\. This is misleading because it suggests that Crowley ever stopped freaking out, it would be more accurate to say that he began to freak out in a different way. [ ▲ ]

* 7\. Even if he still thinks Aziraphale was being a right arse. [ ▲ ]

**Author's Note:**

> I have been awake for over 40 hours so it's time to grab the wheels of life baby 
> 
> find me over at [munchmulch](https://munchmulch.tumblr.com/)


End file.
